A Story That Everyone Saw Coming
by BobTHEPotatoPickle
Summary: Logan meets a maid, new to the castle and to him. We can all see where this is going... LoganXOC.


_Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! Logan, Albion, anything involved with Fable belongs to Lionhead... Lucky bastards... I lied. I own the three oc's in this chapter: Rhys, Colette, and Marguerite. _

_If I owned fable you would have had the option to marry Ben Finn and Reaver. But that's just me! _

_WARNING: IF YOU **DON'T LIKE OC'S **TURN AROUND AND NEVER RETURN!_

_So this is my first fanfiction ever! I'm excited! I hope you're as excited as I am! If you aren't excited, hug a porcupine! That's bound stir up some excitement! I would like to thank my loverly beta readers Caitlin and Olivia for making sure I didn't embarrass myself on the interwebz! Olivia checks the content (she's actually played fable, so I trust her with that part) while Caitlin checks my grammar (I hate commas!). So enough rambling! ON WITH THE SHOW! _

* * *

"Your Highness if you don't do something soon there will be no hope in saving this economy."

'_I knew it. He wouldn't just show up for a social visit. He _would_ show up to lecture me though.'_

I had been sitting in the War Room reading some papers when Rhys, an old friend of my mother, stepped into the room. We were having a fine conversation until the economy came up.

"Enough of this Rhys!" I shouted to get the rambling man's attention. "You will cease your insubordinate chatter now if you value your life! I will not be lectured by an obsolete old-goat like you!" I yelled. Rhys frowned as he listened to me now. "This is my Albion and I shall rule it in whatever way I please."

Rhys glared at me from across the table we were sitting at. He stood from his seat, setting his drink down, and headed for the door. As he opened the door he said, "What would your mother say if she saw Albion like this? If she saw YOU like this? Do you think she would approve, Logan?" Rhys stood halfway through the door now, almost like he was hiding behind it. "Your mother raised you better than this Logan. I pray to Avo that you realize how you are ruling this country is wrong."

"Get out," I muttered angrily.

"You're still just a child Logan; a child who throws a tantrum and makes everyone else suffer when he doesn't get his way." Rhys was treading on thin ice and he knew it.

"**GET OUT!**" I threw Rhys' abandoned glass at him. He was out before it could hit him. Instead the glass shattered when it hit the door.

_'I should have him killed for talking to me like that,'_ I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose feeling a headache coming on. "If he wasn't a good friend of my mother he would be dead." I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling; I needed to clear my head.

I lost myself to my thoughts quickly. Thoughts of the threat coming to Albion were at the front of my mind, as always. My brother was second in my thoughts. He is an adult now, yet I treat him like a child.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Come in." I sighed. It could only be one of three people. Sir Walter Beck, Jasper, or Marguerite the head of all the staff in the castle. They were the only people allowed in the War Room at this time of day without my bringing them in myself.

The door opened and a head poked in. I was surprised to see it was none of the three people I assumed it to be. It was a servant girl, a maid to be specific. Before I could ask her why she was here she spoke, "Pardon me your highness. A gentleman said that there was a mess in here that needed to be cleaned. He said the carpet would stain if I did not clean it up immediately."

I frowned at the girl; didn't she know that Marguerite was the only one allowed to clean in here? "Where is Marguerite? She is the only one allowed to clean this room," I muttered irately. I was in no mood to deal with stupid servants.

I expected the girl to apologize and run off but she did not. Instead she answered my question, "Marguerite was with me when the gentleman said to come here. She said she had more important things to do than clean up the War Room, so she sent me to clean it."

I glared at the girl from my seat on the couch. Before I could say anything she spoke again, "Marguerite wrote a note to you sir. She assumed you would be skeptical of me." The girl stepped into the room shutting the door behind her. She walked up to me confidently as she reached into the pocket of her apron pulling out a piece of paper. She handed it to me and stepped back from me.

I read the note; it was quite obviously Marguerite's terribly illegible handwriting. 'Logan, Let Colette do her job. Love, Marguerite' I sighed and looked back to the girl. "Colette, is it?" The girl nodded silently. "Get to work. I do not wish for my carpet to stain."

The girl smiled, gave a quick bow, and moved to the mess by the door. I watched her work. It was impressive how concentrated she was on the stain. She pulled countless things out of her apron pockets: bottles of cleaning liquids and multiple rags. She ignored the broken glass in the surrounding area of the stain at first, just letting it cut her hands, but it quickly became obvious to her that she needed to remove the glass before she cleaned anymore. She pulled a long strip of cloth from her pocket and wrapped it around one of her hands. She then proceeded to pat the surrounding area. It seemed that the cloth was sticky and was collecting the glass. I heard the girl mutter profanities as the glass poked through the cloth and as she continued to clean the mess.

It only took her a few minutes to get the mess cleaned up. When she was finished she had rags wrapped around her hands to keep her bleeding hands from getting blood on anything. She turned to find me staring at her. She blushed lightly, asking, "Is there anything you need before I leave, your highness?"

"Where would I find Marguerite in an hour or so?"

She glanced at the clock in the corner of the room before answering. "She would be in the kitchens by then, sir. Would you like me to bring her to you, your highness?"

"No. I will find her myself." I stood from my seat and turned my back to the girl as I moved to a table with papers on it. She took this as her cue to leave. I heard the door close with a soft click then silence. _'Marguerite should know better than to disobey my orders. We'll have a chat about this later.'_

After dinner I went to the kitchens to find Marguerite. The servant girl whose name escapes me was correct. I found Marguerite in the kitchens barking orders to the staff.

Marguerite was an older woman of about sixty-three. She ran this castle from sun up to sun down. Marguerite had worked in the castle for as long as I can remember. She was here when my mother took over, she was very young then. She was a tall woman, very thin with graying red hair that was always kept in a tight bun. She had piercing green eyes and a face that could make a child feel guilty for no reason and make a full grown man wish he was staring at a balverine instead of her.

"Get that cleaned up! Do you want rats in the castle? If I see even one ant in this kitchen because you were too lazy to scrub up the spilt sugar, I will beat you within an inch of your life, you hear me?" Marguerite yelled orders left and right. When it seemed everyone was doing as they should, she moved to the corner of the kitchen where the servant girl from the War Room was holding her hands in a bowl.

"Do you ever listen to me, girl? I've told you hundreds of times-"

"Get the glass before the mess. I know, Marguerite, I know! I was nervous. I wasn't thinking!" The girl interrupted Marguerite, which was a very brave thing to do.

Marguerite sighed; pulling one of the girl's hands out of the bowl, she examined it. "The carpet can be replaced, your hands cannot. You'll be useless for at least two days with this glass still in your hands."

"Marguerite, I need to have a word with you," I said stepping up to her and the girl.

Marguerite glanced up at me for a second then back at the girl's hand, "What can I do for you, Logan?"

I sighed in annoyance she would never give me the respect a man of my position called for. "I would like to know why you sent this girl to my War Room when you know quite well that you are the only person permitted to clean it."

Marguerite glanced up at me again, a look of indignation on her face as she continued to examine the girl's hand. "Logan, Colette is quite qualified to clean a blemish on your precious War Room carpet." Marguerite pulled a small piece of glass from the girl's hand making her wince in pain. "If you would care to look at the numerous notes I have left you this week, you would know that I have taken Colette up as my apprentice. She has to have access to all parts of the castle as I do. I thought this was a perfect chance for her to become acquainted with you and your War Room. "

"Why, might I ask, would you need an apprentice?" I asked, glaring at the older woman.

Colette let out a small whine as Marguerite pulled another sliver of glass from her hand. "I'm not a young woman anymore. You give me gray hairs, Logan. I need to train someone how to run this castle while I still can." Marguerite pulled a pair of tweezers from her apron pocket and poked at Colette's hand with it.

Colette yanked her hand away from Marguerite when the older woman poked it a bit too hard. "Ouch! Marguerite, that hurt!"

Marguerite let out a frustrated groan and snatched the girl's hand back. "Don't be such a baby."

"Marguerite, we need to talk about this! How do I know that this girl is trustworthy?"

Marguerite looked up from the girl's hand and gave me a hard glare, "Do you really think I would show someone untrustworthy everything I know about this castle? Every nook and cranny, every secret? Do you think I am that stupid, Logan?"

A loud crash could be heard from somewhere inside the castle and a man ran into the kitchen. "Marguerite! Chickens got into the library again!" The man ran back the way he came.

Marguerite sighed and set her tweezers down. She grabbed my hand and placed the girl's wrist in it. She wrapped my fingers around it and made me squeeze. "Keep pressure on it and try to get the last piece of glass out of this hand. I have work to do." Marguerite left the kitchen with a broom and frying pan in hand.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Marguerite knew how to make my blood boil. I picked up the tweezers Marguerite left behind and poked at the girl's hand.

Colette blushed a deep crimson. "Please, your highness! You don't have to do this!" she said quickly.

"If there is one thing I have learned in my life, it is that you always do as Marguerite says," I said quietly. This was pathetic. Why am I so afraid of the old woman? I am the King! I should not have to do these sorts of things.

Colette looked away and stared at the ground. I looked up at her for a moment, having not _really _looked at her. She was a very pretty girl. She was thin but not very tall; at most, she was 5'7''. Compared to my 6'5'' height, she was short. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and was down' unlike the other servants. It reached just below her shoulders and was unusually straight. Her eyes were also a dark shade of brown, which went nicely with her dark hair.

I stopped myself from staring at the girl and went back to working on her hand. "This is going to hurt," I said quietly to her as I slowly pulled out the last piece of glass. Colette bit her lip and whimpered silently as the glass slipped out of her skin.

Colette looked at her slightly bloody hand, looking for more glass. When she decided that there was no more she grabbed some clean bandages that were beside the bowl she had her hands in earlier. She dressed her wound quickly and was soon good as new.

"Thank you, your majesty," she said, staring down at the ground again. "I should go find Marguerite. Goodbye, sir." She quickly ran out of the kitchen in the direction of the library, her face the color of a tomato.

* * *

_So how was it? Things that make me angry: The title (Any suggestions?), Logan's OOCness (I have my reasons for it though), and commas. Reviews would be appreciated! _


End file.
